Melody Smith's Schooldays

Melody Smith's Schooldays

by Eve Adorer

Chapter 20 – Angela!

Is it possible for a melody to hum a melody? Probably not: but this Melody hummed a melody, indeed a medley of melodies, as she showered after the joy of her night in bed with Sasha and Mary, two of the new school year's nubile new prefects.

There is no happier creature in the world than a Melody that has had passionate love made to her all night long! That night, the night before the shower I was enjoying, I had come six times, and could have come twenty times more. Yes: I was insatiable! At seventeen, I was at the peak of my sexual heat. I was a siren for sex, succulent and ripe. In the shower I hummed and 'la laa'd' musically melodically living up to my name, because my body had enjoyed precisely was it was tuned for and attuned to: attuned for and tuned to.

I was lucky on the dawn of what was going to be another hot day in early September. I was lucky on the dawn of what was going to be another hot day, because the head-girl was away. I was lucky because the other girls in the prefecture took delight in my pretty humming and trilling. I was lucky because, had the head-girl been there to hear me behaving so, even though I was singing unselfconsciously, without really realising I was doing it, she would have had me spanked.

I had completed my morning run, and was showering for the day: another day when my compelling loveliness would entice and excite the other girls in the school as I obeyed and abided by my duty to be beautiful: my duty to draw to myself alone all the 'unhealthy' feelings these isolated girls, my fellow pupils at St Catherine's Academy for Girls, might begin to feel for one-another, were it not that they could focus all their love and lust on the girl chosen to sacrifice herself to them and for them: the prettiest and sexiest girl in the school: me: Melody Smith: the official School Slag.

I mention the head-girl only by her title. You will, no doubt have noticed that. Throughout my recollections here, I mention the head-girl only by her title. I can name the head-girl now. Or, at least I can name the girl who became head-girl during my time at St Cath's. But I cannot name the girl who was head-girl at my arrival there. I dare not name the original head-girl because of the high office she still holds in Scotland.

I would be well advised too, not to name the office she holds now that we have both left St Catherine's behind us. I can be pretty sure she knows I am writing this story, and that she will be reading every single line along with you, dear reader!

Suffice it to say, that there was to be a change of head-girl at the upcoming October of my second year. The original head-girl had only stayed on with the school for a while, because she was awaiting a place at a prestigious American university.

That was to be in October. We were still in September and only just a little into the term immediately following the summer break. We were still in September, and I was just beginning to overcome my either real or really only imagined broken heart: my pain, real or self-indulgent, at the loss of my summer love, Angela.

I would still have my moments of sadness. I would still have my moments of sadness despite the atmosphere in the prefecture having become a little more relaxed. There had been a changeover in the prefects. Not only was the present head-girl about to leave, but some of the older girls had already left at the end of the summer term. Among those already departed had been the horrible Marion, Josephine's rival for the Slag's post I had won. Elspeth, and Georgina had also gone.

Elspeth, and Georgina had been replaced by Sasha and Mary, the girls who had protected me in my first days in class: the girls with whom I had just spent a night of bedded bliss. Marion had been replaced by Tania, the very first girl to have befriended me on my arrival at the school.

When it came to thinking about girls leaving and prefect replacements, the one girl I tried not to think about ever going was Josephine. My lovely Jo was already eighteen though, and the Christmas holiday would see her join her family's publishing business, and be lost to my life forever.

I knew that that heartbreaking event was coming. Jo's family were wealthy. Jo was not destined for university. At least, Jo had been headed for university, but her mummy had persuaded her to prepare to take over the reigns at *******, the internationally renowned Edinburgh scientific publications house.

Persuasion was not difficult. For a girl to be able to say that she had been educated at St Catherine's Academy, was better than being able to say that she had a first-class honours degree at any but the best universities. As her very successful mummy had been at St Catherine's before her and done so well in life without bothering to take a degree, Josephine was easily persuaded of that argument. Jo also acknowledged that an 'apprenticeship' in the family business would serve her for life and that, in her case, as with her mummy, university was an irrelevance.

The prefecture was more relaxed now. At the start of my second term, I was housed among girls who had been my companions as 'just girls' rather than prefects when I had started at the academy. Consequently, now these girls had won their advancement to the prefecture, they treated me less officiously.

The still current head-girl was newly often absent from the dorm too, and everybody relaxed when her bullying presence was not casting its gloom and doom. I was even allowed to join in conversation. The new prefects treated me as if I was their equal, and the few remaining of the older prefects benignly neglected to correct them.

When the head-girl was not there, on evenings in the main room of the prefects' dormitory, reminders of my compelling sexiness would still come though, such as when, relaxed as I could be now, I sometimes giggled uncontrollably and would end up blushing, as I would be the last still giggling among the girls, when every other girl in the dorm would be agog watching my blouse as my endless musical giggle sent my lovely soft firm virgin schoolgirl's titties into vividly vivacious vibrato. And I would end up hanging my golden-hair-curtained angel's face, in a deep flushed blush knowing what they were looking at, and loving them loving to look at what they were loving to look at.

On other occasions I would forget the shortness of the hem of my skirt, and unselfconsciously draw a leg up as I giggled: draw a leg up as I sat, draw one leg up by my pretty hands clasped on my knee. And even before I had pulled that leg up, leaning back in my chair with gorgeous girly giggles, my heavenly eyes ashine with tears from my pretty laughter, I would be made conscious of my unconscious action by becoming conscious of the unconscious focus of the eyes of all my fellow girls, consciously waiting to see if I would flash my nude shaven naked naughty between my god-given thighs to heaven their night in their sight and with their sighs.

All that goes before here, is not to say that I was allowed any relaxation in my role as the School Slag. I was still used to eyes following my pretty legs, the backs of my dream calves tickled now by my still lengthening glorious corn-gold hair, as I wiggled around the dorm: nothing had changed there! And, on a given night when more than one of the prefects wanted to stroke me, I would wait with graceful blush as the they drew lots to decide whom I was to go to bed with.

I was 'bedded' most nights. Truth told, on the rare occasions I was alone in my bed, I found it hard to get to sleep!

Not every girl wanted to take me to a cum though. Geraldine, another of the new prefects, just wanted to look at me. For her I would strip completely naked, so that she could just enjoy my overwhelming loveliness as I moved around the room, bathing in her adoration and dressed only in my back-of-my-calves curtain of glorious glistering gold: bathing in my back-of-my-calves curtain of glorious glistering gold and dressed only in her adoration.

I loved Geraldine's gentleness, and her worship of me was something I would never ever betray. That Geraldine would rather die than even dare to touch me with the tip of her littlest finger, was our little secret: a secret I would always keep (and have changed her name even now, so that it is still kept).

If my hair brushed against Geraldine as I graced naked before her, I would utter a little girly gasp, as if she had in fact touched me. This made Geraldine blush to the roots of her redhead's hair. But my smile told her I was only gently teasing her, and the lifting of my pretty index finger to my pouting perfect kissy-kiss lips, told her that my sexy little cry was also to cover with the girls who might be listening in the main dorm, so that they would think Geraldine and I were in passion's embrace, as indeed we were, albeit the embrace of a more distant non-physical hold as I would look over my soft smooth shoulder, eyes afire with the go of my glow, my thus turned head lifting my shower of golden glory, to reveal the smooth rotundity of a semi-sphere demi-sphere hemisphere derriere demimonde, and look at Geraldine and see her eyes transfixed, and know that the moistness consequent in the lower lips of my lovely lissom body, was only an effect of the perfection that Geraldine's pupils were reflecting, as her eyes worshipped me as her goddess, and I enjoyed being so unreservedly unquestioningly completely and utterly adored.

After my night of passion with Sasha and Mary, with Sasha having made me cum with yet more of her deeply sexy and highly inventive stories, as she always did, and as I looked forward to her turn with me for, I was showering and had now showered to face a warm, nay hot, September day.

I had been singing in my shower, such was my relaxed happiness, and I was now loving the glow of the warmth from the self-heating shaving foam I had squirted onto my lower belly and my lower lips, as I prepared to shave my naughty, making a mental note to smooth myself with some moisturising milk, having run out of the cream I usually used, so as to ensure my close shaving did not leave my skin dry.

We were enjoying what in Britain is called an Indian summer. September days in Scotland are shorter in daylight hours than mid-June of course, but that year they were long enough for a high-pressure zone hanging over us, and not even the lightest breeze, to make the heat of the days in the second week of the new term, greater than summer itself had been on some June and July days.

Having showered and shaved, I looked for my clothing of the day.

My clothing for the day was to be black. Thank goodness I would be naked under it, for black and hot days do not go well together. I loved black though. To wear black was for me to maximise the contrast between the glory of my blonde hair and pale complexion, making me look beautifully the white girl I was, even when I was tanned. For me to wear black was as magical in the contrasts for me, as for an equally gorgeous negress to wear bright yellow or white.

With shapely little hands, I turned over my clothing to be, as I stood totally naked, to see that I had a dress, stockings, suspenders, garter, and, to my surprise, a hat, all in velvet of the black of terminal space. A note with this, my clothing for the day, simply read: "Pigtails".

I was never one for getting annoyed, but I admit I thought it a bit late to order me to put my hair in pigtails! For goodness sake, had I not just spent almost an hour brushing it out strait!? But, whoever had ordered this of me, I instantly forgave, when I saw that my rummaging among my clothing to be, I had accidentally knocked to the floor a black velvet bow. This must be one of a pair of pre-tied elasticised bows that were to adorn the ends of the pigtails I was to braid my hair in, and it looked so pretty in midnight velvet black.

For the next nearly half-hour, my fresh freckle-sprinkled face was a study of adorable concentration as my pretty practiced pretty fingers nimbly worked my hair, after I had combed it to give myself a central parting, nimbly worked my hair into two pliable corn sheaths of precious shimmering gold, to the long-distant ends of which I affixed the two delicious black velvet bows, leaving just the ends of my endless hair to three-inch conclude my single schoolgirl twin pigtail plaits.

My pretty pigtails slid over the smoothness of my naked bummy now as I stood, to adorn my hips with the raven-black suspender belt. And what was this? Had it not been in one of Sasha's sexy stories in bed with me, where the heroine had worn suspenders that stretched over the cheeky cheeks of her bonny bummy?

I had rolled the first of my pitch-black stockings, stockings with a network of diamond fretwork patterning them, up the million miles of one of my legs, and fixed the front suspender, and was reaching around behind me with pretty mouth slightly pouting-kiss-roundly agape in my concentration, eyes aglow with undiluted vivacity, pretty furrow on my ordinarily completely unlined brow, when I realised, with a girly gasp at its daring sexiness, that Sasha's story was come true, as I was to have to stretch the suspender belt's rear elastic suspenders over one each of the cathedralic domes of my darling derriere.

It felt so wicked, that I could hardly wait to adore my other leg with its adorning stocking. And, having devastatingly prettily open mouthed with concentration, so adored and adorned, I turned and blew my bummy, erotically pressed into by my two overstretched stretched over suspender suspenders, a kiss in the mirror.

I had fastened the suspender's suspenders, of my midnight stockings so that the pitch-black stockings front and back of my orgasmic thighs, were pulled into inverted Vs, the rear ones of which were wickedly near the line where thunderous thigh ceases and creases and creases and ceases to be the heaven of thigh, and starts curving into the joy of curvaceous bottom. I turned and blew my bummy a kiss in the mirror where I could see both suspenders stretched over the mountains of my firm white rear moons indelibly incredibly sexily. And with my blown kiss at the erotic sight of my suspenders stretched over the horizons of my bummy, came a familiar girly moistness in the infinite intimacy of my intimate innocence.

And soon surrounding the top of the stocking of my left thigh was the crown imperial of the frilly black elasticated garter, with its livid red crimson red interwoven ribbon, the tails of which ribbon, hanging over from having made the prettiest of pretty crimson bows, dangled down to my knees at the outside of my thigh, and ended in cute little black elasticised bows fitted to them in direct imitation of the cute little black bows at the ends of my golden pigtails.

My eyes looked absent as my arousal grew from knowing that I was being erotically adorned for worship of my beauty. And I sighed girlilly as I took up my black velvet dress and eased my slim golden-downed forearms down its long sleeves and then put my pigtails through its polo neck, before lifting it over my face and easing it down till its polo neck was around my long swan's neck, and then lowered its slanted hem over my bare bummy, till I was adored and adorned by the black velvet clinging to me as if it needed to cling so tightly so as to save its poor life, as I 'poured' it onto my fulsomely full, fully handsome and some, goddess' curvature.

And I stood stocking footed in clinging black velvet dress, in a cloying black velvet dress, with a hemline that sloped upward right to left, to be a quarter down my thigh on my right leg, and purposely not down my gartered left thigh, which thus showed the side of my left bummy hemisphere and my stretched-over-my-bold-bummy suspender, and the whole of my bare, bar-stocking-and-garter, left leg. But the eyes of any other girl in the room looking to see how I was dressed would have been compelled to the front of this dress, for the tactile velvet covered the whole of the deep sweep curvature of my back, from my bummy to its polo neck.

So, if the tactile velvet covered the whole of the deep sweep curvature of my back, from my bummy to its polo neck, why would any other girl's eye sigh and widen in amazed pleasure at the sight of the front of this black velvet clinging cloying slant slope hemmed dress I wore? Would it perhaps be, because its front had two holes in it purposely to leave my breasts entirely bare? Would it perhaps be, because, except for a strip of material through my cleavage the front of my curvature clinging black velvet dress had two holes in it purposely to leave my magnificent breasts entirely bare? I wonder!

I unruffled the ends of the sleeves at my slender wrists and looked for my shoes, dangling my divine naturally huge completely bare titties as I bent to pick one up.

As I eased my toes into the pair of steel soled heelless balletic shoes, black soft leather steel curved soled balletic shoes, I had by now become used to wearing, so that they gloried my glorious legs, I became aware that this time, my toes would not be on the ground. This time by toes were being divided and going through individual holes in a sort of 'foot knuckleduster' that would leave me standing, on the outside of the shoes, on the shoes' steel toe-ends, but with my very real toes bare, and wiggling freely, as within the shoes, I was actually standing, very painfully, on the gaps between my toes, held thus by the five-holed steel 'toeduster', my pretty toes were being separated by.

I had not painted my toenails, and yet my toes were going to be on open display all day. Oh, how annoying! If only they had told me!

My boldly bare bountiful titties flowed like cream dreams, my rosebud nipples pointing the way as, shoes now on and legs stretched thus to high heaven, I bent to pick up the soft black velvet hat, that was to adorn my head with its Spanish toreador flat crown, and wide circular brim, curving down to shade my shoulders, its brim being soft and unsupported so that its own weight made it flop every and any way like a bunny rabbit's ears.

And so I arranged my hat, bending up its brim at front, pulling it back a tad off my forehead, both these so I could see where I was walking, and slanting it saucily to one side, the opposite side to my barest leg: my leg barest from the slope of the slant of my mini-dress, my glorious left leg.

And so with my golden pigtails gently smacking and caressing the backs of my black stockinged curved calves I began to wiggle my way through the prefects' dormitory to face my day.

……………..

To walk on the in-betweens of my toes was very painful, and I was wiggling my bare and openly exposed toes, as if forgetting that everything I did was erotic to the N ^th degree, as I swayed my hips in my fashion-models wiggle walking sashay, my proud bare breasts proudly waving imperiously like two princesses greeting their adoring subjects with condescending waves from their passing carriage, as my carriage caused them to wobble and bobble and jog and jig their glory, to greet the glory of the glorious day and the baying longing girls thronging my way.

The pain from my feet would not and could not end until I could sit. But oh the compensation of the adoration of my fellow girls as I felinely flowed to my class for the day in silence of shock and awe at my total stunningness, so that I was reduced to captivating pretty-fingers-on-mouth-and-nose trilling thrilling tintinnabulationry giggles, as I tried to hide the moisture I was secretly secreting inside my secret slot as the girls gawped at my slide by glide by slide glide show, with my completely bare imperious titties to the fore and then my bummy to adore, heaven on the luxurious long limbs of heaven.

As I entered the class, I paused and then curtsied to Miss Kimi Hai, who was to be our first teacher of the day, and who acknowledged me with a smile and admiring surveying eyes.

"You look absolutely perfect, Smith" Miss Hai, the pretty little Japanese doll smiled.

"Thank you ma'am" I slinkilly curtsied long dark latticed stockingly leggilly once more.

As I slinked to my chair, I could feel Miss Hai's adoring eyes on my rear. As I slinked to my chair, I could also see that something was strapped to its seat.

In a moment, I found Miss Hai alongside me, and she almost made be jump with the surprise of it.

"Yes ma'am" I curtsied once more, in enquiry of what she had moved alongside me for.

"Melody. Now Melody, I want you to lift the hem of your skirt as you sit down: you will see why." Miss Hai, our arts and crafts teacher instructed me.

"Yes Miss Hai" I curtsied yet once more.

Then I turned and saw what was on my seat and prepared myself to sit as ordered and lifted my dress' hem, and my suspender's suspenders stretched over my cheeky bummy, stretched to their utmost as my bummy bent as I lowered my 120 pounds of utterly undiluted unadulterated girl onto the cold metal device that was purposely on my seat, sitting with the curviest of curvy calves, tiptoeing shoes tiptoed to ground as, surrendered to my sexiness, adored by the class and the school, I obeyed Miss Hai to the letter.

Miss Hai was now at the front of the class and had clapped her hands to draw the classes' attention away from my divinely sexy presence.

"Smith, you must sit up straight, not move, and not cross you lovely legs!" Miss Hai called out to me.

"Yes ma'am" I answered, feeling the cold of the metal on which I sat my 120 pounds of pure girl, and almost disobeying her, as by reflex I began to stand in order to curtsey as the School Slag must to her superiors.

"Our subject this morning is still and movie photography" Miss Hai announced.

"Many artists, over the years, have regarded the human body as the most beautiful thing on earth or in heaven for painting and photographing", Miss Hai began.

"How accurate is that statement?" she challenged the class.

Hands went up in the class, eager to give an answer.

"Nulinda?" Miss Hai pointed to the raven-haired brown-eyed Indian-Asian angel, still only fifteen and still growing ever more beautiful by the day.

"Should it not be 'girls' bodies' ma'am" Nulinda sopranoed breathily.

"Excellent point!" Miss Hai congratulated.

"Now, if two of you will move Melody's desk to one side, we will look over her lovely body, to show and discuss the major artistic interests and the problems of capturing such beauty in paint or photographed picture, still or moving. And, come the morning break from lessons, I will give a prize to the girl who takes the best still photograph of a delight that Melody is developing for us right now", Miss Hai announced.

Oh the embarrassment and oh the pleasure, as my face and my body were discussed and photographed and, metaphorically, dissected for the delight of the class, when for the next hour, as I sat obediently on cold steel, Miss Hai used my body as the canvas on which to paint a word picture of the artist's impossible struggle to capture and convey girl to the world.

The lesson dragged on for seemingly endless, endless, hours. It was not that it was not interesting; it was that it was getting increasingly uncomfortable for me, as my poor bummy went numb sitting my whole delightful 120 pounds of girl on what was purposely on my chair seat.

After nearly two hours, I was so very numb with sitting still on cold steel, the cold steel device on my chair, for which I had raised my dress' hem and bared my bummy, that it was like the announcement of the opening of the pearly gates, when Miss Hai indicated she was about to let me stand.

"Now girls. As I said at the beginning of this lesson, there is the prize of some sinful dark chocolates for the girl who takes the best photograph of the work of stunning live three-dimensional art that the lovely Melody graces us with day by day."

"In a moment, Melody will stand with her back turned toward us, and look over her left shoulder so that we can capture the loveliness of her delightful face, whilst holding the hem of her dress up off her pretty bummy"

Miss Hai made sure all the girls in the class had hold of their digital cameras.

"Hold it Smith!" she called to me, as I began to move.

"Not like that Nulinda. Have you even got the flash set to go?"

"Yes Miss, the light is on" Nulinda whispered.

"Sorry: you were right all along Nulinda", Miss Hai apologised.

Now turning once more to me, Miss Hai called over for me to be sure my hat did not hide my lovely face as I stood, and I stood slowly, initially a little stiffly from sitting still for so long, as ordered, with my suspenders stretched sexily over my bummy mountainettes, and turned as ordered, my back to the eager audience class of photographers, and was showered with the lightening of flashes as my fellow girls took photographs of my bare bottom deeply embossed in its deep-dimpled side cheeks with deeply red deeply concave roses, the reddening roses impressed into me by nearly two hours sitting on cold steel dies that had driven the image of the pretty roses in full bloom into my glorious bummy, as my 120 pounds of one-hundred-percent pure girl had pressed down upon them. And the bulbs flashed repeatedly lest my adornment fade as it must as my circulation returned my bummy demispheres to their normal natural smooth flawless beauty.

And, where I had sat being wonderfully impressed from 120 pounds of pure girl pressing down and pushing them into my unyielding yielding youthful softness, I also stood with delicious marks from my suspender clasps having pressed and thus impressed into girlsoft skin to form decorative red seals 'branding' the topmost backs of my fabulous thighs: seals of approval confirming the highest of highest high quality girl: seals marking the two-most-foremost-first-in-class thighs: seals confirming the magical majesty of my curvaceous legs: seals: compressed impressions in my beautiful body's lowest limbs, confirming them as the two most utmost foremost legs of one most utmost foremost girl.

………….

The morning break had come and we drifted into the exercise 'playground', and I so wanted to be alone.

I had come over with melancholy. Melancholy had overcome me. I was once again dreaming of my lost love, Angela. I wiggled painfully with my bare toes dangling and flexing in my shoes, walking with all my shapely weight on the spaces between my toes, my bare toes prettily exposed to air for all to see, the adorning pattern of pretty roses impressed in my bummy still visible were I to lift my dress' hem.

My look of distracted sadness must have communicated clearly to my fellow girls because, bless them, despite my horny beauty's temptation, and even with them all still wanting to see my bummy roses, they let me wander and wonder yonder alone for a while.

The day was already very hot, and my black clothing, hat, dress, and stockings, all the more sexy for the purposely erotic 'cruelty' of having to wear black on a hot and breezeless day. The day was already very hot, and the unrelenting sun beat down on my bare breasts searingly, as they bobbled and boggled on my chest, end-echoing the shudder judder of my every sexy step, bouncing and flouncing gently in unison.

My soft pretty hat was hugely wide brimmed, and cast a corresponding shadow to shade my lovely skin from the cruel sun, but only were the sun higher overhead would it protect my firm virgin breasts. And so I could feel the sun's mid-morning unrelenting unyielding fiery heat on my nipples as they rosebud-pointed the way I was to wiggle and was wiggling, titties joddering and jiggling, but pointing the route to heaven, as heaven lay before and aft of everywhere and anywhere I blessed with my passionate passing presence and my past passing presents were in the prize of my visiting perfection.

I was poetry in motion as I wiggle wandered a wonderful wonder, wondering, and wandering wonderfully. At my dainty steps my bummy swung and swayed one way and then the other, and my glistering glistening schoolgirl pigtails dangling at my calves, swayed and swung the other, and my bare titties plunged and lunged yet other ways still, completely wilfully independent of me and of each other.

In the heat I was moist with sweet perspiration and glowed with the warmth of the early day and the go of my girlness, as I blessed the earth with the angel steps my heavenly legs essayed, pure girl gold assayed, in my black dress, blacker in blackness than even the dress my shadow wore: the taller slimmer fully feline facsimile that tried so hard to copy me as she followed behind my behind, duly fully failing the impossibility of simply silhouetting the supreme cream dream of my being.

I was feeling lost love. I was being self-indulgent you might say. But I was feeling lost love with all the passion and compassion of a young girl, tears beginning in my eyes and a sob rising in my bosom at the memory of my summer vacation.

I had graced to the back of the main school building, to where I could see a gang of tough strong girls from the local recycling depot, emptying the trash bins into the truck that took the schools refuse away. And I stood and I watched them, not really watching, nor really seeing these strong girls, who, having emptied the bigger containers, the ones on wheels, were shouldering the bins of recyclable waste, to carry and then heave their contents into their lorry.

Then one of the 'dustbin girls' spotted me, and pulled off her gloves, before putting her fingers in her mouth, to give me the loudest longest wolf-whistle I had ever so far been given in my sweet young life.

And I instantly started, and came back to the real world my mind had wandered from in wonder, to hear her call her companions with: "Fuckin' 'ell, just look at that will you!! ….Oh my fuckin' god just look, just look!! For cripes sake just look!! What a fuckin' honey……..!! You gotta look! What a fuckin' angel!! You just gotta look at this! For cripes sake you just gotta see this!!!"

The gang of tough girls, four out of the five of them at least, stopped what they were doing to stare at me, and I loved it. Woken from my sad reverie, I raised my lovely head a little, haughtily but sweetly: just a little, just a little haughtily, just a lot, just a lot sweetly.

"Give us a smile then sweetheart" the wolf–whistler bawled to me.

I managed a shy tiny, tiny shy smile, my bright blue eyes saying 'please don't look at me, and look at me please' as I raised and then lowered my gaze to beg them not to look and to beg them to look, and for me to be sure they were looking. My brief shy smile was a blessing on her day that the wolf-whistling girl could only hitherto have wet-dreamed of.

"You're a fuckin' doll, you are luv! You're a fuckin' angel, that's what you are!!" the wolf–whistler shouted over to me, as her mates joined in wolf-whistling, and cheering me for my beauty.

"Come away Smith!" I didn't hear Miss Hai call.

"Come away Smith, and come away right now!" I didn't hear Miss Hai call a second time.

I didn't hear Miss Hai, for my lovely electric-blue eyes had spotted the one girl who was yet to turn to look at me. The girl her mates were telling to turn lest she miss the blessing of my near distance, clear distinct, presence. The girl in the black leather with her short blonde hair gelled into spikes. The girl with the last full trash bin on her shoulders.

"Angela!!" I all but screamed as the back view of this one girl transfixed me and all but felled me.

"Angela!!" "Angela!!" "Angela!!" "Angela!!" I was squealing as I wiggle totty trotted as fast as my tiptoed leggy legs would let me, my bummy swinging and my bare titties bouncing and bumping and juddering and joggling up and down and down and up in thrashing threshing ununited and separated unison, as I screamed with joy, trotting on the legs of heaven with my schoolgirl pigtails gently bashing my bummy, toward the group of tough dustbin girls, and the back of the girl with the spiked hair.

"Angela!!" "Angela!!" "Angela!!" "Angela!!" I screamed in my joyous joy of joy.

"Oh sweetheart, you'll take a tumble! Don't fall, please don't fall!" called the overwhelmed wolf-whistler as she witnessed my tiptoed kicky leggy trot toward the waste disposal gang and feared for me in my impossible, impossibly erotic tiptoe shoes.

And I was among these tough-girls-turned-gentle as they were moved by my loveliness, and my bare breasts heaved on my breathless chest as I stood behind the girl in the leather with the short spiked blonde hair, and she turned and I smiled my total adoration and complete and utter surrender, tears of love running down my freckled honey soft honey sweet adorably innocent adorable innocent's face, and I raised my mouth for a kiss from my Angela….. and the girl turned, and this was not Angela…….. and I instantly fainted.

………….

Some of those strong girls must have carried me. Perhaps, no, probably at Miss Hai's direction, some of these strong girls must have carried me to where I came round: the headmistress' office.

Miss Hai had my slightly dimpled chin in her hand as my eyelids flickered and from my eyes the sun shone with thrice the sun's intensity once more.

Realising where I was, I tried to rise from my chair in order to curtsey to Miss Pringle, the headmistress, but she put up a hand to stay me in my seat.

I felt a strange tightness about my honeypot as I sat. As I came round from my faint, I felt not only that strange tightness, but realised with some shock, that for some reason, my pretty thumbs were in some way linked together behind me.

"Your parents are on their way Smith" Miss Pringle told me.

'All the way from London?', I thought: 'why would mummy and daddy be coming all the way to Scotland just because I had fainted?'

"Your father telephoned me yesterday" Miss Pringle continued.

'But I fainted just now, today!' I thought.

"Your father telephoned me yesterday" Miss Pringle repeated.

"He was, quite rightly, concerned about an association you appear to have struck up during the summer vacation, with a highly undesirable type, rejoicing in the name 'Adele', or 'Adella', or some such."

'Angela' I realised now that Miss Pringle had been told about Angela.

"The details are immaterial and irrelevant, save that it was clearly a completely undesirable unhealthy and unforgivably inappropriate association. It was certainly not the type of, let's call it 'friendship', I will ever allow a girl from this academy to strike up whilst ever I am its headmistress." Miss Pringle insisted very firmly.

"From what Miss Hai has just apprised me of, you appear to have a penchant for the unpleasant peasant type, Smith!"

"I do not! I repeat, I do NOT expect to find, or receive ever again a report of, one of my girls being found disporting herself among refuse collection trash!"

"And don't you dare try to deny it Smith! You were clearly seen by Miss Hai displaying your….your……your….er…….your, your bosom to the filthy trailer trash whose disgrace it is to have no career other than that of dealing with the detritus their superiors naturally cannot be expected to think about, let alone touch."

After a pause to recover her composure, Miss Pringle continued: "Your father, fully supported by your mother he confirms, telephoned to tell me of your disgusting conduct during the summer vacation, and to ask that I effect a cure".

"I am, of course, relieved that your father does not blame this establishment for your shortcomings. He was, quite rightly, at pains to remind me however, that we, St Catherine's Academy for Girls that is of course, effectively act as parents to you, and owe that the honour of your charge to us by your loving parents, is returned by a clear demonstration that we have taught you well in all aspects of your life."

"Accordingly, the degree of shame you have brought on your poor parents by your behaviour with this slum slut, 'Adele', or whatever her name was, this summer, is proportionately more dishonour on this establishment, your alma mater: the 'parent' that has you in its loving charge for a greater period of the year than your actual relatives do."

"I am not, but absolutely not, going to put up with this kind of behaviour from you young lady. Your father is entirely right to ask that you be cured. Accordingly, after much careful deliberation, I have decided that you will receive suitable punishment in front of the whole school this afternoon, once I have spoken face-to-face with your parents."

I gasped audibly…….

"Don't you dare challenge me young lady!" Miss Pringle, eyes afire, spat out at me.

"You appear to have acquired a habit of wandering off too Smith. So I have therefore had to take precautions against that happening again."

"Now get back to your classes!!"

"Go! Be gone! Dismiss!!" Miss Pringle ordered in a quiet but quite total fury.

As I rose in my tiptoe shoes I became fully aware that my thumbs had been either tied or linked or cuffed together behind my back. And as I tried to walk, I looked down to see that metal toe-cuffs fastened my bare big toes together with a three-inch chain to hobble my step, and I read from this that my thumbs wore steel chain-linked cuffs too.

Miss Hai escorted me to my English lesson, as I shuffled, as I must, the prisoner of my chains, also aware that the tightness around my honeypot was from a pair of very tight black rubber knickers that had been pulled up onto me: black rubber 'school-issue' knickers with elasticised top and elasticised leg-holes that gripped around the topmost of my thighs where my thighs melded into my bummy bumps: black rubber 'school-issue' knickers that encased my purse: black rubber 'school-issue' knickers moulded so closely to my bummy it metaphorically smouldered.

As I wiggled and wriggled my bummy struggling to walk in my chains back to my class, we were passing the lavatories and so I asked Miss Hai:

"Please may I go to the bathroom, I have not been all morning, Miss Hai?"

"No!" said Miss Hai, "We are not going to have you wasting any more valuable school time!"

Truth told I was rather, no, more than, desperate to go for a pee and so, as I sat in class unable to work on my computer keyboard because my hands were tied by their thumbs, I grew steadily hotter and hotter and my mouth dryer and dryer.

I had needed the bathroom as Miss Hai and I had passed them by: and. oh girl, was I beginning to need the bathroom now!

Only fifteen minutes into my English lesson, I politely rose to ask Miss Hardstaff, the academy's head of English, for permission to go to the toilet. She ignored me. I re-seated myself.

More time passed. I rose again.

"What is it Smith?" Miss Hardstaff enquired with world-weariness edging her tone.

"Please may I go to the lavatory Miss?" I enquired in the sweetest tone even I could muster.

"No Smith. For goodness sake: you've sat there for the past half-hour staring into space and doing nothing. Anyone would think you had your thumbs tied behind your back!" Miss Hardstaff deliberately mocked, and I heard at least two loud sniggers from my crueller classmates.

Another fifteen minutes went by, and I stood with the full intention of asking permission to be allowed to attend to a now incredibly pressing call of nature that I urgently needed to release and relieve.

"Sit down Smith and sit down now!" Miss Hardstaff ordered in a manner leaving no doubt that I had breached the limits of behaviour she would allow from the girls in her class.

"Don't let me ever catch you moving again without permission Smith. Do I make myself absolutely clear!? Miss Hardstaff enquired very evidently entirely rhetorically.

Another fifteen minutes went by, and I was flushed and blushed and wriggling on my seat as if an army of ants was biting my bummy within my hot and sweaty rubber panties. I was struggling and striving to fight, having to fight, fighting with all my might, the terrible inevitability of having to pee in my knickers if I was not allowed to go to the bathroom and to go right now.

And yet, I was clearly not going to be allowed to go to the bathroom and relieve myself properly. And even were I now to be so allowed, to leave class and go to the lavatory, it was already too late because, with my big toes chained together by a three-inch hobble, I would never make it in time. Indeed, it was by now even too late if they had unchained my big toes so that I could maybe run. It was too late and far too far for me to wiggle in my tiptoe shoes. And even if I could have got to the bathroom, how was I to pull down my knickers with my thumbs cuffed behind my back!?

"Oh for goodness sake, sit still Smith!" Miss Hardstaff barked at me.

"Sorry miss", I answered sweetly submissively.

I tried my hardest to obey, but shortly after this telling off, I once more began and continued to grow hotter and hotter and to dance divinely sexily on my seat, squeezing my knees hard together and pushing my bummy down hard on the chair and wishing 'if only my toes were not chained' so that I could cross my thighs and squeeze my naughty closed tight, fighting the hot burning pressure of my pee trying to dying to escape me: a mental and physical fight.

I felt a little seep a little weep a little peep of my pee escape me, and I redoubled my efforts to make it to the end of the lesson so I would surely be allowed to go to the bathroom. Oh no! Another little pee peep. Oh no! Another little seep. Oh no! Another little weep I was going to pee my knickers for sure unless I could make the door!!

I was flushing and blushing and perspiring with the strain, as I continued to grow hotter and hotter still, and my mouth dryer and dryer still too, and still hotter still till, even though I knew it was far beyond far, far, too late, already long since, I disobediently rose from my seat to beg to be allowed to go to the bathroom, and instantly felt myself copiously peeing my panties.

My hot pee gushed into my school-issue knickers blush burning me with its scalding shaming warmth, as I seemed to pee twice the amount I would normally have expelled from my bladder. And I was thus twice shamed as, even though I tried to stop it coming, I could not and it would not stop from filling up my knickers. Slowly but as inevitably as it was gradual, as I stood with my golden hair haloed head hanging knowing that all the girls in the class knew that I was peeing myself. Right there in front of them, I peed my panties. And my fresh hot pee swept and wept into my knickers until the last shaming drip drops dropped and dripped.

As my pee gushed hotly burningly into my knickers, I hung my head in equally hot burning shame, and emitted sexy little surrendered surrendering gasps. I seemed to be peeing endlessly as I stood, and as I stood I was filling my knickers to their very brim. Because my rubber school knickers were so tight, they kept much of my hot pee still in my naughty. My relief, the chance to pee, was nothing compared with my utter deep down beyond base bottom shame as I stood before the whole class, that whole class of my fellow girls knowing I had just peed copiously completely into my knickers.

"Was there something you wanted Smith?" Miss Hardstaff drawled sarcastically at me, with a voice that said I was not going to get it, whatever it was anyway.

"No Miss. Thank you Miss" I answered as I hung my head in unutterable unrelieveable unbelievable utter shame, and I slowly sat my soft young bummy on the seat, feeling the warmth of my fresh pee being squeezed around in the gusset of my tight black rubber school knickers, having thoroughly fully peed myself, for the first time since I had been a child.

"Good!" barked Miss Hardstaff, "Then perhaps we can get on with our lesson, if that's alright by you that is Madam Smith!" she sneered.

An hour of my shame passed and my naughty began to feel quite sore as the acidic pee in my knickers gnawed at my soft skin.

My head was still hanging and flush blushed with my total and absolute shame as I sat obediently quietly on my seat in my wet pee filled knickers, as a girl came in to pass a message to Miss Hardstaff.

"Smith!" Miss Hardstaff moments after called to me.

"Smith! Are you listening girl!?" she roared.

"Your parents are with Miss Pringle. You have my permission to leave class and see your parents. And, may I say, for all the worth you have contributed here today Smith, it is as easy to let you go, as it is to say 'good riddance to bad rubbish'!"

I rose from my seat, and bobbed a curtsy, sloshing the pee in my knickers silently around within my quim, as I began to wiggle my walk, hobbled by the three-inch chain, to see mummy and daddy in the headmistress' room.

Daddy would save me from all this! I was daddy's girl. Daddy would save me from all this! Daddy would have talked to Miss Pringle and would rescue me. I loved daddy. Daddy was so handsome! Daddy would save me from all this without a shadow of doubt!

As my beautiful egg-timer figure shuffled the corridors, still dressed in the black velvet slanted slope hemmed mini-dress, black diamond fretwork patterned stockings, and soft black broad-brimmed hat I had worn all day, with my bountiful bosom abounce in its bare abundance, mummy and daddy, having finished talking with Miss Pringle, came toward me. Daddy looked very stern.

In my bonds and my shaming pee filled knickers, I could not manage a smile for mummy and daddy. As they approached, I slowed my painfully slow progress, the slow progress inevitable from my big toes being cuffed with a three-inch hobble chain between them, so I could only take little wiggle steps.

As we stood opposite each other at last, I looked adoringly appealing at daddy's rugged face.

"David!", Mummy's voice intervened as my loving eyes shone obediently daughterly up at daddy, "David, she's only a child….!"

Mummy was pleading for daddy to be lenient with me, but how accurate was my imagination that it had in fact been mummy who had badgered daddy about my association with Angela, until she had forced daddy to make that phone call to Miss Pringle?

Daddy left hand took mummy's right hand and he patted the back of her left hand reassuringly with his right hand fingers.

"Hello daddy" I said, purposely not looking at mummy so as to punish her for what I knew she must be behind: that phone call.

"Hello sweetheart", daddy's moustached lips whispered as he gently kissed my left freckled cheek alongside my mouth.

"We are in a bit of a pickle aren't we my love", daddy began, "But we know it is for the best, don't we sweetheart?

"David!" mummy, intervened in a sharp voiced single word intended to remind daddy he had something to ask or say.

Daddy looked at my knickers, clearly evident at the side where the slope of my dress' hem left my left leg bare bar its black stocking. He then looked at mummy as if to say, 'there is self-evidently no need'.

"Go on David" mummy insisted, thereby confirming to me that she was the power behind all that was happening. "Go on" she repeated, as he hesitated, thereby confirming she saw no reason not to proceed as had obviously been previously agreed between husband and wife: my mummy and my daddy.

"Go ON David" mummy insisted more strongly.

"We've been talking to Miss Pringle………" daddy began and then stopped, and turned to mummy whose lips silently insisted, with an indicative head nod, 'go on!'

"We've been talking to Miss Pringle……… and she says. Miss Pringle that is. When I say 'she' I mean Miss Pringle of course………" daddy ground to a halt.

My lovely bright blue eyes had not left off from adoring and imploring his handsome noble face: I adored daddy: I was daddy's girl.

Daddy was clearly gathering his courage………

……..Daddy did not look at mummy this time, because he knew she would urge him on to what he was trying to avoid saying………….head down he almost mumbled………

"We've been talking to Miss Pringle", he started over yet again, all over again, "We've been talking to Miss Pringle, and she says that you deliberately go about the school without any panties on in order to tease excite and entice the other girls. Is it true sweetheart? Tell me! Is it true!?"

How could I answer this charge without breaking daddy's heart?

"No daddy!" I instantly unhesitatingly lied.

"No daddy. No." I twice further multiplied my lie.

"It must be another girl" daddy turned and, with an emotional lump in his voice, told mummy, who clearly did not believe my answer, "It must be another girl".

"I knew it must be another girl" daddy told himself out loud……….There are so many, Miss Pringle must be confusing you with another girl.

Daddy looked back at me next, and as if it hardly mattered simply said, "When we talked to Miss Pringle, she said that you don't have to be caned".

At his saying this, it took a full five-seconds for what he had said to register, it was so unbelievably wonderful.

After daddy saying this, I stood stunned. After his saying this and after I had stood stunned, my heart then pounded faster and faster and it leaped for joy as did I, and I danced even higher on my toes, flexing my divinely sexy legs in joy as I reached up and forward to kiss his dear face: "Oh daddy! Daddy! Oh thank you thank you thank you thank you daddy!!" I kissed him all over his cheeks in my near tearful joy at this god-sent relief.

At his announcement of my release and relief from sentence, I stood higher than tiptoe on incredibly erotically shaped legs kissing daddy my hero. My daddy had rescued me, my daddy was so clever, my daddy was so strong, my daddy was so handsome, my daddy was my daddy: my daddy had saved me as I just knew he would! But there was something about daddy's reaction as I smothered him with daughterly loving trusting worshipping kisses that told me, why he had told me I did not have to be caned, in such a 'bye-the-bye', aside, sort of way.

"No sweetheart, no" mummy intervened, "What daddy meant to say was that Miss Pringle has given you the choice between being caned or being expelled".

Instantly my heart fell like a hydrogen bomb. I was more stunned than when daddy had seemed so clearly to announce I was no longer to be punished. This tore me apart. This was my mummy: mummy who had got me in the straits I was in, telling me I had the choice between the devil and the deep blue sea.

"Let them cane me then!" I suddenly blurted out weeping proudly with tears in the corner of my lovely eyes, as a way to hurt her and get my revenge for what, in my extreme teenage view, in which everything that was not white must be black or vice versa, was her out-and-out betrayal. And even before I could change my mind, I heard my daddy whisper, "I think it would be best".

The first I had heard that I was to be caned had been from daddy's lips. My daddy: the daddy I adored!

I adored and loved and worshipped my daddy and yet he could not look at me now, as the head girl came to escort me to the assembly hall for my punishment.

"Daddy!!" I sobbed, as the head girl began to lead me away………. "Daddy!!……………. Daddy!!!!"………..

And all I saw in answer to my tearful pleas as the distance between us grew, with me staring wildly back over my shoulder as I wiggled under escort away from my parents, was that he hung his head, and that mummy took him in her arms to comfort him.

……..Daddy!!!!!!!!"………..Daddy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"..

………….

The school hall buzzed as Miss Pringle was yet to make her appearance.

The school hall was filled with a soprano hum as girls settled to watch the necessary cruelty about to be acted out for their education.

The school hall hushed as my mummy and daddy walked in, their heads hung in shame, to take their seats at the front, to witness me being punished for having been naughty.

The momentary hush for my parents then rose to a soprano crescendo for a while, and then pin-drop silence as Miss Pringle came in.

Then I was brought onto the stage next to Miss Pringle. I was, bar for my two pigtails, absolutely totally naked.

They had taken me in a shower to strip me. They had had to cut my rubber panties off me. My pee had dribbled out my knickers and I had peed again, to my shame, I had had to pee right there and then again, letting pour from me what, poor me, I had had to retain again for fear of peeing my knickers twice.

My naughty was very sore where it had nestled in a pool of my pee, in my pee filled knickers. They hosed me clean, but applied no lotion or ointment on my burning skin: my soft smooth skin, the skin of the outside lips of my naughty made sore and burning from nestling in my acidic pee for hours on end.

"Kneel!" Miss Pringle ordered me, when I had been walked to the front of the assembly hall stage by the head girl.

And I knelt in the instant of her command, hanging my head in humble shame.

The head girl now brought a leather collar and put it around my neck, before fixing my dainty wrists into metal cuffs dangling at its rear, behind my head.

Then, with thin silk rope, she began to tie my nipples. She made the ends of two individual slim silk ropes into nooses, and put the nooses in turn around the base of my nipples, and pulled the noses individually very painfully, very tight.

I was then made to stand, and wiggle under escort of the head girl, to a board that was on the school stage. This board stood on a latticework of one-inch deep wooden blocks, and had two holes in it, and two hoops in it, the hoops being of steel, screwed into the board base some distant forward of the holes.

There was complete silence as I was made to put my big toes into the holes so that my other toes were tortured in the horizontal plain on the board proper, on which they remained. The complete silence continued, apart from my cry of agony from the pain in my bent up toes, as my big toes went down the vertical holes provided for them.

I now stood with my virgin schoolgirl's legs soldierly straight slightly agape, raised in pain from my other toes, in tip top toe big toe erection, on the legs of supreme dream heaven, my compelling shapely legs profoundly stretched and girl-muscularised: dream calves, locked back dimpled knees, thunderous thighs, deep side-dimpled tight held anal retentive bummy cheeks from my tiptoed stance.

I was to be bent over for my caning. My audience followed the flow of my hourglass curvature, pleasing and easing the eye such that a blind girl who had just regained her sight would have looked at my body and been made instantly blinded again by its unmatchable erotic beauty.

I was to be bent over for my caning, and the slim ropes from my nipples were pulled down, making me bend over, and then tied to the hoops in the board, so that I now flashed the gateway to heaven between my torsioned thighs. The reddened and sore pee-steeped, pee-marinated, gateway to my treasure, to my pleasure, to my teaser, to my pleaser, to my 'please', to my pleas, to my heaven, to my haven, to my pistils, to my stamens, to my rosebud, to my flower, to my power, to my kappower! my slot, my slit, my split, my minx, my minge, my quim, my twat, my Nellie, my organ, my girl-hole, my purse, my pouch, my tunnel, my honeypot, my love lips, my love hole, my sex, my cunny, my cunt, my naughty, and my hymen: for I still had my hymen.

I still had my hymen. I was a seventeen-year-old intact, fully intact, virgin schoolgirl with her mysterious mischief mischievously explored, but her barrier still completely intact: for I still had my hymen and my hymen was pristine and unbreached. I was an innocent little girl, with full little girl's sexual weaponry, but, or should that be 'and'?, I had not been breached: I had not been taken to womanhood. I was a seventeen-year-old fully intact virgin schoolgirl: daddy's little girl: grown up, but still daddy's little girl.

I was bent with my love lips openly on display slightly open. I had been a naughty girl with other naughty girls often enough to have had my naughty naughty fully explored, but I still had the septum of my maidenhead stretching a tight barrier across my vagina, a barrier only needing policegirls with guns and patrol cars with flashing red and blue lights to confirm that it indicated 'absolutely no entry ma'am. I can't let you past the barrier ma'am. More than my jobs worth ma'am. No: I can't tell you what's in there ma'am I've never been allowed in there myself ma'am: nobody has. "Need to know" ma'am and, with respect, you and me we don't need to know ma'am. This is a protected area ma'am: please turn around. No: no visitors ma'am, the barrier's never been lifted ma'am. The barrier means what it tells us ma'am, no visitor's, the barrier's never been breached ma'am, never ever.'

I was bent double and kept bent double by having my nipples tied to the board platform on which I stood by the bent up toes of my pretty feet, and on the tip of my big toes in the recess holes made for them, bent over, far over, my nipples straining on short reins, flashing my sore nude virgin schoolgirl's intact naughty to the whole school. My legs were not together as in disobedience of the time-honoured advice from mummies to their daughters: my legs slightly apart together failing to protect my honour.

I moaned in agony as my fellow girls tried so hard not to enjoy the astonishing beauty of my thus tiptoed legs or to imagine the pain in my nipples, or to wince at the evident soreness of my poor naughty, which had been steeped in my pee all afternoon, so that my pee's acid had burnt and chapped my silk soft skin, as my purse had sweated and sweltered in the rubber school knickers, awash with urine, my urine in the black rubber knickers I had been forced to wear.

The forced wearing of the rubber school knickers to make me raw and sore had been deliberately aimed at taking away any sexual pleasure I might get, it was feared, from being caned. The alternative would have been to cane me during my monthly bleed, but my punishment could not wait until I was next due on heat, so I had been made to wear preparatory punishment panties.

The head girl finished my preparation, by giving me a rubber gag on which to bite down on to ease my pain as I was whipped.

Miss Pringle's presence and my divine body divided the attention of the school.

Miss Pringle wasted no time in getting to her point.

"I will not: I will NOT have girls from this academy dating riff raff!"

Miss Pringle paused to let her words echo in young minds. Then she began……..

"Let me just remind you ladies once and for all, one and all, that St Catherine's Academy for Girls is an elite institution but not elitist. You are all here, insofar as possible, given that we must necessarily charge fees, you are all here for your high intelligence. We turn wealthy girls away: we turn poor girls away; but we don't turn away either wealthy or poor girls who pass our entrance examination. We are therefore not elitist in the sense that our uniqueness is only open to money. We cannot be bought by money. Places at the academy can only be bought by a girl having the brains to get into it".

"We are not elitist; but we are elite. Girls entering these portals will be sought after by employers for their intellect and the high standard of education their presence at this institution assures those employers, that girls coming here have attained. Potential employers will seek St Catherine's girls out even before those girls go to university. That is how elite St Catherine's is."

"And in exchange for what we give our pupils, what does this fine historic establishment of five-hundred years standing ask of you girls as its pupils? 'Nothing'. That is the answer: 'nothing'. Nothing that is, of course, other than that you uphold the honour of being here in your conduct within our hallowed walls and, just as much, of course, if not even more in fact, when out in the world beyond."

"And despite and in direct contradiction with that perfectly, surely perfectly reasonable request, what have I found? I have found a silly little girl who thought it fun, or perhaps funny, to throw all we have given her back into our faces with a sneer, by dating a factory girl. A factory girl! A production line worker for goodness sake!"

"Am I in contradiction? No, I am not. Of course we have the daughters of factory workers here. The young lady who has disgraced us, was also, this very day, disporting herself among the girls who collect the school's trash and yes, we have the daughters of refuse disposal workers here. So, am I in contradicting myself? No, I am not."

"We have the daughters of the poor here to raise them up in the world. We give all the girls here a chance to rise by becoming better than equal and better than their beginnings; not to revert to and associate with those unfortunates who must fetch and carry for us, as somebody must in any society."

"Melody is a beautiful name for a beautiful girl. Melody has graced us with her loveliness for just over a year now. She is also a highly intelligent girl with great aptitude for the more arcane reaches of mathematics. And yet she has behaved like a tramp. Her own parents had to tell me, and just imagine how hurtful that must have been for poor David and Sonata, who have agreed to be here today: her own parents had to tell me that Melody Smith was dating inappropriately during the summer holidays."

"No doubt, Melody thinks, or at least thought, she was in love!

Another pause, was intended by Miss Pringle to let this sarcasm sink in.

When I first heard of this completely unacceptable behaviour, I was minded to expel Melody. However, I have listened to her parents, and they have agreed, and I have conceded, a harsh but lesser lesson. I say conceded, because none of you should imagine that this sets a precedent!"

"Melody no doubt thinks, or at least thought, she was in love. I'm afraid that Melody needs to have such a ridiculous notion taken from her silly little girl's head."

"As a lesson to us all to find love appropriately at the time it is due, and not whilst we are still silly little schoolgirls, I'm afraid Melody must be given a severe, and I do mean severe, caning. Melody is to be caned. Melody will be taught a lesson. Melody will be taught THE lesson. Just be sure, all of you, that you too, learn the lesson that Melody is about to taste."

There was total silence after this coldly cooly deliberately calmly delivered tirade, displaying Miss Pringle's total snobbery at its very worst.

But the rights or wrongs, rights and wrongs of Miss Pringle's arguments were immaterial to me. Right or wrong did not matter. It was an arid argument. Whatever the rights or wrongs of Miss Pringle's discourse, my bent-over bare bummy was about to feel the savagery of her heartfelt despicable opinions!

Miss Pringle readied her cane behind my bent-over behind, but first signalled to the head girl who, from my left side, swung her cane horizontally across both my bare bummy cheeks as one and: 'THWICK!!!!!' the cane kissed my bewitching twitching bummy, and I bit hard down on my rubber pain relieving gag and cried with a deeply sexual deeply sexed deeply sexcited scream and moan.

I was girl. I was very girl and my very girlness glorified the school hall as the waft of the wand of the whip of the cane ripped blistering fire across my derriere raising instant glistering desire in my honeypot from the shame the humiliation and the searing burning shock and pain of the deep red rut stripe welt my bummy was fresh thrash threshed with, as I screamed and then moaned girl-wantonly with all my sexual fire aroused roused and raised desire craven raving in the very instant of my subjugated agony. I was instant animal with a cannibal cunny dripping with girl-honey as I gasped and called sirenly for meat in my heat to devour with my power, a girl being a girl beyond girl to animal, uninhibited animally wanton and waving her whipped bummy to seduce and traduce.

I sang my irresistible sexy tune and gasped my wanton willing and wanting gasps as I flexed my legs and bent my knees and pulled on my titties tied by their nipples with sensual sexual eyes-raised-to-heaven heaving, having heavenly joy in the pain of the wicked witch switch cane mistressing my bare bummy …..

…….And 'THWICK!!!!! the head girl's cane thrashed crashed and slashed across by bummy again!!

And where her previous stroke had crossed or crissed my glorious bare bummy was crissed or crossed, and I was criss-cross and twice kissed with a crimson deep welted 'X' for sex, as my bummy was afire with searing flames of scorching desire at the cane's deep red rut stripes, deep-cut into its immense and immeasurable beauty, and I screamed in a mix of pain and wanton fire, fire from a higher desire than even that burning my blisteringly blazing bummy: fire of desire not doused by the terrible pain from my tormenting terrible torture twin whip swipe stripes.

To administer my third stroke, Miss Pringle stood facing my bent over bummy, and therefrom brought the cane through its violent whispering wickedly whistling arc with unerring accuracy in the valley between my bummy mountainettes, with its wicked tip right viciously hard on my anus, on my sphincter, on the opening in my bummy, on my rear love hole 'THWICK!!!'

I screamed with agony not only from the savage whipping impact on my sensitive sphincter, but from the echoing agony that shot up my backbone and seared my head brain, and my lovely body went into a rhythmic unstoppable dance in which my glorious legs flexed their perfect shapely muscularity and my body pulled up hard on my titties in instant reaction to the impact, to too-late-pull my bummy out of target, trying to stand me up and ease my agony, as I screamed and screamed, stretching my nipples and tightening the nooses around them as I bit down on the rubber gag in my mouth in excruciating pain, too much in pain to even cry tears as opposed to crying out with horrendous hurting.

Oh god! Oh god! My eyes glazed over as more waves of agony swept through me.

In the audience, my attentive audience of five-hundred of my fellow schoolgirls, initial gasps and escaped squeaks at the horror of my pain, had quickly become a silence of hung heads, and eyes in pretty faces that looked down, sharing blushes but not looks, because no individual girl was going to admit that she was creaming her knickers at my screaming.

And Miss Pringle repeated the dose, 'THWICK!!!' hard on my bummyhole so that I shot up from my bent over stance screaming aloud loud again, as I pulled on my nipples unmercifully and howling as the agony pulsed up my backbone like a lightening bolt, my glorious legs sexily dancing and flexing back and forth and forth and back at the knee as I fought and fought the terrible pain from my whipped sphincter. And my bummy went into muscular spasm and sexy waves of inviting St Vitas twitching girl muscle, frantically dancing cheek by cheek, with each cheek unstoppably twitching in opposite spasm, violently, sexually excitingly for the onlooker, and violently sexually painfully for me, as my sphincter burned red hot as if it had been branded.

Five-hundred girls shuffled their bummies on their seats, or licked pretty lips, or tried to pretend they were not watching me being thrashed, because what was being meted out was so savage. Five-hundred girls in a trance, many with their nipples adance, many more with their panties patched muskily at gusset, fought to hide their shame and pleasure. Five-hundred emotional young girls were emoting in their pretty panties as I squealed.

Oh god! "Mercy: mercy!!" I mumbled indecipherably into the rubber gag I was biting down on to ease my unbearable pain and my musk dribbled down the heavenly soft insides of my thighs from my succulent suckable fuckable sopping soaked slot steeped and swimming with my sweet nectar.

And Miss Pringle repeated the dose yet again, 'THWICK!!!!!' oh god the agony the shear unutterable agony as the whipping of my sphincter echoed up my backbone and into my brain and into my purse and momentarily stunned me, before I screamed and cried and howled and bawled and pulled on my nipples as I tried to straighten myself to ease the dreadful dreadful dreadful pain, and to escape this savage cruelty, as my bummy's muscle spasms went into virulently violent overtime, and my longingly long lissom legs danced the witches twitch, thrashing fore and aft to try and ease the truly unbearable horribly horrendous tremendous agony of my bummy's sphincter burning as if ten red-hot-pokers had been inserted within my tender girlness. To try helplessly to ease my pain, I thrashed my legs back and forth at the speed of light despite the agony this gave my toes, and even as my heavenly honey ran down the insides of my lithe lissom longing longed-for languorous legs, as my cunt betrayed my head in its hunt to be fed.

Five-hundred colours had the rainbow as stars swam before my eyes from this last stroke. And five hundred different colours of panty, had five hundred patches of darker hue among my fellow schoolgirls, none of whom would ever admit ever after, what she had felt as I was flogged, nor why their dormitory's laundry basket was so full of stained panties and so fulsomely super-erotically scented later that same day.

And then I became rigid again as a wave of new pain went through me from the easing of the anaesthetic effect of the third anus stroke itself: what had been numbed by the power of the impact of that stroke, was now stoked to agony as the numbness lifted, so that I now stood bent rigid and immoveable, as wave after wave of raging pain held me stiff and helled me.

And then, after exceptionally careful aim and waiting forever for my sexually excited body to settle the writhing rhythm of its everdance prance stance from the agony of my beautiful cane stripes from the fury of the fearsome cane strikes: from middle behind me, standing so that she could bring her cane up between my lovely legs, Miss Pringle's cane swished up between my thunderous thighs and its rocketing end cut into, deep deep into my slot my slit my purse, ripping into my naughty hole with the speed of light like a guided missile homing on its programmed target, whipping inside my honey sodden naughty, purposely accurately and precisely aimedly whipping me inside my naughty and ravishing raping and whipping and ripping by hitherto intact hymen into ribbons 'THWICK!!!!!' so that I screamed and shot upright stretching my titties to eternity in my agony as I must thereby, before returning to my subservient bent over posture, and wriggling my luscious long legs in a dance of passionate pain, as a telltale trickle of bright red blood mixed with my cunt-cognac eased from the sore lips of my hitherto intact virgin's virgin naughty, and trickled telltale end of tale end of tail fresh crimson red on the ground from my mound between my tiptoed agonised feet, announcing that I had been whipped into woman from girl: I had been whip raped from girlhood to womanhood in an instant of frighteningly lighteningly lashing pain, never ever to be a girl again.

The third anus stripe swipe had ultimately stunned and poleaxed me to rigidity so the rape stroke rip-cut-sliced my hymen in an unmerciful unerring unbearable excruciatingly agonised instant of blitzkrieg pain, and I was now finally bent over straight-legged a sunny honey with her honeyhole dripping red wine. A schoolgirl ripped ripe with a striking stripe stripping raping and ripping her of her maidenhead, and the proof of her purity now passed and past shown by a crimson trickle as the last vestige of her childhood innocence, the blood from her cut pluck fucked and rapid rape ripped protective hymen, trickled from her no longer innocent but now insolent naughty now naught she her maiden girlhood any more.

And they cut the ties holding me bent: holding me down by my nipples. And they eased my big toes out of the holes. And they took my gag out, near bitten through as it was as I bore my pain, and untied my wrists from my neck. And I lay curled up foetus like on my side on the whipping board, with the blood from my whip-ripped hymen trickling down my handsome right thigh from the lips of my once but no longer virgin naughty, as I heard daddy say to the headmistress in what sounded like sobs: "My wife and I cannot thank you enough Miss Pringle. ……It had to be done……… It had to be done….."

They had tied up a girl. To cane me they had tied up a girl.

They untied a woman. Having caned me and whip-raped me, they untied a woman.

And I felt only betrayal as I lay there fresh whip-raped and incoherently sobbing "Daddy! Oh Daddy!" whilst a blanket was being gently placed over the naked woman, the once naked girl, now the newborn, no hymen to warn, no hymen worn, her hymen torn, naked girl-woman that was now me.

And, as blood from my whip-raped, whip-ripped hymen still trickled from my honeypot's lips, I lay panting and sobbing beaten breathless: beaten brutally so that I was, in a crimsonly visible, internally eternally physical sense, no longer daddy's little girl.